


wonderwall

by voicemails



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10077650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voicemails/pseuds/voicemails
Summary: Chanyeol falls for Baekhyun before he can learn better. Baekhyun's company comes at a premium.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my this on my Livejournal about three years ago.

Chanyeol's tanning himself in a cafe chair, waiting for Baekhyun. It's been sunny for two months straight, and their city is in a state of emergency because the drought has gone on for too long now – six months, maybe seven – and no one can really remember the last time it rained. Chanyeol doesn't particularly mind, though, and the only real effort he and Baekhyun had made to conserve water is to shower together, but he has calculated that they save like, one-hundred and fifty liters of water every time they do that, so he thinks they ought to be considered alright people. Going out of their way to save the environment and all.

It's really hard to care about the drought though, when it's a crisp spring day, the kind that makes you think it's May when it's really only March. Chanyeol has a love affair with these days; maybe because he is summer and Baekhyun is like spring, and their seasons fall in line with each other on these rare warm afternoons. It feels like it's been six, maybe seven months of perfect alignment, and when he closes his eyes he can feel Baekhyun's head leaning on his shoulder still.

So it's fine, really. It's bliss, or close enough to it. Chanyeol is the kind of simpleton that gets caught up easily – it's one of the things Baekhyun likes about him.

“Who's that?” Chanyeol asks, once Baekhyun is close enough in view.

“Him?” Baekhyun says, angling his head in the direction of the stocky man he had been walking with until just seconds prior. The sunlight glints off his hair, newly dyed red, and Chanyeol wonders about how he could afford to get his hair done again. It looks good, though. Everything about Baekhyun looks good to him. “He's my sponsor.”

“What?”

“He pays me to hang out with him,” Baekhyun explains, pulling out a chair to sit. “You know, coffee dates, sometimes he takes me to weddings or parties; in return he buys me stuff and gives me a monthly allowance.”

“A sugar daddy?” Chanyeol boggles, his face contorting in that way it is like to do, his eyes bulging unevenly and his ears wiggling (not of his own accord). Baekhyun laughs and reaches across the table to pat Chanyeol on the head.

“Don't worry. I've been doing this for years. It's just business.”

By nature, he's not romantic; at least, not the kind that fantasizes about warm spring days and assigns a season to every relationship. In high school, he would buy his girlfriends a lot of things, and that was a really good strategy of showing how much he cared until university started and the money stopped. In university, he tried to be more in touch – to look out for clues and hints – but in the end he's still Chanyeol. He knows what to do when it matters, and he knows how to smother someone with affection, but when it comes to the intricate details of relationships, he always falls flat.

The thing is that it never really mattered before. By the time that it would actually be important for Chanyeol to go from a “good date” to a “real boyfriend,” he'd grow bored and move on. People were a game to him, even though that doesn't sound kind out loud. He likes being liked. He likes being liked by everyone, even if it means a certain level of transparency. Baekhyun isn't all that different.

Maybe, that's why they worked. 

“I can buy you things,” Chanyeol huffs. “Just tell me what.”

“Stop being like that,” Baekhyun says. “Consider it like freelance work.”

 

-

 

The past two weeks have been drenched with a relentless rain, and Chanyeol is worrying about how they'll ever dry their clothes - dirty laundry has been piling up for quite some time but he is reluctant to visit their old laundromat from sophomore year, maybe because he'll be awash with all the memories of when things were easy, back before they started dating and they were just best friends.

Domesticity is something Chanyeol has a love affair with; he enjoys cooking and cleaning and worries far too much about the small parts – chipped dishes and one pinch of salt too many - but it's one of the few things he's good at, even moreso than others, so he lets it worry him. It's better than class and shitty internships, and even if they don't have much money, at least they have this.

Outside, a clap of thunder breaks and the drizzle turns to a downpour. Luckily, Baekhyun runs in just at that moment, dripping wet with a damp psychology book tucked under his arm. Chanyeol breaks into a smile – it's been rare, lately, that he gets to see Baekhyun. He misses him, sometimes, all the time, doesn't know why.

When they first met, in freshman year, Chanyeol was starry-eyed and clingy, maybe because he could be no other way. Baekhyun used to laugh at him then, honestly and unabashed, making fun of his contorted facial expressions and gangly limbs he could never grow into. They used to crash on each other's dorm beds so often that their roommates suggested that they move into together (they did, in sophomore year). On Saturday nights, they'd stay in together and watch stupid horror movies and listen to Chanyeol strum at his guitar and Baekhyun would laugh, laugh until it hurt, not for any real reason, maybe just because he liked Chanyeol and Chanyeol liked him back. Baekhyun still laughs, and it's perhaps the only thing that can put him at ease.

In sophomore year, they were still inseparable, and in junior year they used to fuck two times a day – if not more – before every class and in every second they could. It was the way they were. Even by the time Chanyeol should have tired of him, moving on to another target in his quest to collect every friend, for some reason he couldn't quit Baekhyun easily. Even when he would have been done with Baekhyun, he found himself just wanting him more.

“When's your next class?” Baekhyun asks. He's sitting on the couch and trying to shake water out of his ears, wetting the sofa cushions in the process.

“Tomorrow,” Chanyeol replies over the run of the faucet. “Professor Kim cancelled class. Said he had,” he coughs, makes an effort to lower his voice a pitch, “'personal problems.'”

“That old bag?” Baekhyun laughs. “Tao told me that he's got a new girlfriend, so that's why he's actually happy now. Bet he cancelled class to get laid.” Chanyeol barks in response, and plates clatter around him. A too-long arm reaches out to barely catch a glass that threatens to start a chain-reaction of breaking dishes, and barely makes it. On the other side of the room, Baekhyun is still laughing. He's shaking out his hair so that little water droplets splatter over their used couch, and Chanyeol thinks it's nice, that even the smallest actions that he thought he'd be tired of by now – tripping, falling, breaking things – are still considered an endearing part of his personality.

“Well,” Chanyeol says once the crisis is over, turning back to focus on scrubbing plates again, “if I hadn't gotten laid in upwards of a decade, I would cancel class too.”

“Good thing you don't have to worry about that,” Baekhyun purrs, and Chanyeol feels something nipping at his neck. He whirls around and finds Baekhyun pressing against him, moist skin against dry, and Chanyeol fumbles to take off his dish gloves while Baekhyun starts caressing his body. Baekhyun pulls Chanyeol's shirt over his head, getting an stuck arm in the process. As Chanyeol moves to untangle it, Baekhyun presses their lips together. Baekhyun's mouth is icy cold and feels like rain, but it tastes clean and not like strawberry chapstick so Chanyeol takes time not to worry, instead letting his tongue pass his teeth. When he kisses Chanyeol, Baekhyun is hungry and relentless; it's the only thing that settles the roiling in his stomach, where he wonders if Baekhyun can tell just how much he loves him.

“We have to be fast,” Chanyeol says between breaths as Baekhyun fumbles with his belt buckle. “I promised I would get dinner with Jongin.”

There's no response, just the soft crumple of his boxers falling to the ground as Baekhyun fades from his line of vision and takes his cock in his mouth, sending shudders up through Chanyeol's spine. He threads his hands in Baekhyun's hair, his hips bucking a bit more with every suck Baekhyun takes, his cock hitting the back of Baekhyun's throat. When they first started dating back in junior year, Baekhyun used to gag every time Chanyeol did that, used to yell at him after he came - “I'm giving you a blowjob, not letting you fuck my mouth! It's called technique!” - and eventually Chanyeol did learn to control his erratic hips, just a little bit, so he could feel the way Baekhyun's tongue would swirl around the slit and lick up and down the shaft and move back and forth and back and forth slowly and then quickly and slowly again. He used to appreciate the intricacies, but lately it's just been some raw urge to be with Baekhyun and suddenly he finds himself jerking into Baekhyun's mouth again and cumming down his throat. Baekhyun doesn't gag anymore, though. Chanyeol wonders where he learned how to.

“Fuck me,” he heaves as he releases, down Baekhyun's throat. Baekhyun smiles up at him greedily, making a big show of swallowing, and Chanyeol shouldn't be turned on immediately after he orgasms, but he is. Letting out a heavy sigh, Chanyeol sinks down to Baekhyun's level and starts kissing him, this time tasting himself in the back of Baekhyun's mouth. He likes it best that way. He hopes the other man can taste Chanyeol too, hopes it makes him jealous, hopes he knows that Baekhyun is his, Chanyeol's, and Chanyeol loves him.

When he leaves for dinner, Baekhyun doesn't move. He knows Baekhyun doesn't get jealous. That's what worries him.

 

-

 

“Would it bother you?”

“I don't get why you're so touchy about this,” Jongin says, his mouth full of fried chicken and crumbs all over his face. He hasn't washed in days; he's an up and coming manhwa artist, and his most recent deadline was this morning. Chanyeol has become accustomed to Jongin's hygiene being determined by the stress level at his job – he's learned to appreciate him regardless of how much he smells like sweat and stale beer. “He's got a sugar daddy. Half of the students at your school do. It's not a big deal.”

Some days Chanyeol looks at Jongin and manages to see something other than a dirty, washed up manhwa artist that liked to bowl and dance ballet in high school. Maybe if he, Jongin and Sehun hadn't known each other for more than half their lives, they might have dated; instead, Jongin was one of Chanyeol's first targets, back in middle school – a difficult man, who always thought Chanyeol was far too overt and clingy, but eventually he gave in. Even still, Jongin grew up well, gaining much longer limbs and a solid body despite all the fried chicken, plus a set of pretty lips. If you didn't know about the whole anime-and-manga-thing, or the bowling club, or how terribly unhygienic he was, then Jongin would actually be kind of threatening, Chanyeol thinks. Baekhyun doesn't know anything about Jongin, and never bothers to ask.

“I know but--” Chanyeol whines. “Is it wrong to be jealous?”

“Jesus, for a guy that drove seventy-five percent of the female and male population of our high school mad because he was so damn flirtatious, you think you would handle this better.”

“What? I was not flirtatious!” He slaps the chopstick out of Jongin's hand, and then gently cups his face. “You know you're all I want.”

“See what I mean!” Jongin swats Chanyeol's hand away, grumbling as he tries to clean off his chopsticks. “They called you the calculator. All you do is flirt. That's what would make me mad. Not Baekhyun hanging out with some weird old dude for money.”

Exhausted, Chanyeol leans back in his chair. He hates feeling like he shouldn't feel this way, and hates feeling like he doesn't know what to do. Love was a word that he never understood, and even if he did love Baekhyun, was it supposed to be this complicated?

“But that's the thing!” he says, exasperated. “Baekhyun isn't even jealous. I wouldn't be so sensitive if he was jealous.”

“Nah, you've always been a sensitive prick.”

Chanyeol pouts, dropping his chopsticks and making a show of not eating. He knows that Jongin thinks he's ridiculous, but he's never bothered to care about that with Jongin. Most people think he's ridiculous, and Jongin has always, will always know it for a fact. Friendship has that effect on people.

“You're a twenty-two year old man, not a puppy,” scolds Jongin. “You need to stop doing that.”

“It's just – Baekhyun's been doing this for years and I only found out a few months ago. Why didn't he tell me?”

There's a frown pulling at the corners of Jongin's mouth, little pieces of food collecting on the corners of his lips with every bite he takes. “Isn't it more like, why didn't you realize?”

“How was I supposed to realize that he was dating some prehistoric CEO that can't even get it up for new bags?”

Jongin puts down his plate. “Well, one, your notoriously broke boyfriend somehow manages to bring Versace bags home regularly. Two, he started hanging out with Tao, who's spoiled rotten and dates a mob boss's son. Suddenly. Out of nowhere, he likes Tao. He never hung out with Tao! Three, I don't know, maybe if you opened your fucking eyes you would have noticed?”

“Am I that blind?”

“If you didn't notice it just means that Baekhyun didn't think it was important. He wasn't hiding it from you.”

With muffled sigh, puts down his chopsticks and looks at Chanyeol straight.They still have moments – even though Jongin likes to be babied and likes to be the one who runs the shows, he has grown as soft spot for Chanyeol over the years (and he's still bitter about it).

“Look, Chanyeol, you're way prettier than he will ever be. I know people have cheated on you, but I don't get how you could be threatened by anyone.”

“Really?” Chanyeol's eyes sparkle for a second. Jongin pretends to gag. “You think I'm pretty?”

“You're so bigheaded,” Jongin scoffs, before shoveling another piece of chicken into his mouth.

 

-

 

“You've never been in love, have you?”

Chanyeol reddens, his ears first, but the flush creeps on to his cheeks as Jongin laughs. There are only two people in the world that can see right through him, and he hopes Baekhyun never bothers.

 

-

 

Baekhyun pushes his ass in the air and snuggles his face into the pillows. Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun knows that he likes this position, maybe it's a bit fucked up that he does but he doesn't care.

“Fuck, Chanyeol,” he moans, his voice pitched two octaves higher. He lets out another stifled groan, burying his face in the pillow, and that only turns Chanyeol on more, so he digs his hands into Baekhyun's hips and thrusts in further, further every time. Now, he knows Baekhyun's body, knows how to angle against him so he hits the spot every time, so Baekhyun is breathless and moaning without words, purring and squeaking and it turns him on so much, knowing that he can at least do this, he can still make him feel good. He may love Baekhyun, love the way his voice sounds in the morning, but even if Baekhyun cannot love him in the same way at least he can love the way they fuck – that, is what they have. He knows that no sponsor with no amount of money can ever make Baekhyun feel the way he does, because he doesn't know the quirks and curves of his body with the same intricacy.

“I love you so much,” Baekhyun screams when he comes, but it's not clear, more like a strangled mess of syllables that die before they reach Chanyeol's ears. He still hears it though, still prays that it's true. Maybe Baekhyun only loves him in bed, but at least in bed – in this bed – he knows that no one else can be on Baekhyun's mind.

Sometimes, he wishes they wouldn't work out, maybe to make it easier for himself. It's fucked up to secretly want the one person you love most to leave you, but then it would be so much simpler. He'd bottle his feelings back, latch onto a new girl or guy and make them his target, until eventually in the process he somehow finds someone that managed to fill up the space beside him. Instead, he finds himself addicted to these moments – where Baekhyun says he loves him and Chanyeol believes it, if only until they leave the room and the musky smell on his skin fades away.

Baekhyun crawls up next to him, warm and glistening with sweat, and smiles, nestling his face in the crook of Chanyeol's neck, their breathing in sync. It's unfair how he does that to him, unfair how he says he loves him when Chanyeol knows that they will never be the same.

 

-

 

“I think it's better if you don't know his name,” Baekhyun says, his shoulders slack. He's pulling at his hair, applying sticky products – Chanyeol calls them gels, but Baekhyun insists they are pomades, which makes him wonder just how often Baekhyun and Tao eat lunch together. “Let's leave him out of this.”

As the younger boy leans forward to apply some eyeliner, pulling his eyelids up for more control, Chanyeol thinks Baekhyun is really, kind of beautiful and that he could never, truly trust him. It reminds him of when he dated a girl back in high school and she insisted that he leave her best friend out of this. He trusted her, of course – it was as Chanyeol was wont to do, to fall fast and hard for others without rhyme or reason. Even then, he knew he was a solid eight on a scale of one to ten, tall with a husky voice and a cheeky smile - minus two points for poor control of his expressions and pointy ears - so there was no real reason to be insecure. People liked him, girls thought he was pretty, boys did too; if he tried hard enough, anyone could like him. There was no real reason to doubt her then.

Turns out she had started sleeping with her best friend somewhere between point A and B, just too afraid to tell Chanyeol because she liked the attention he gave her. And he liked giving it too much to notice the signs. It always went like that for him.

“Don't you think I have the right?” Chanyeol asks. “I deserve to at least the know the name of the man I have to share you with.”

At first, Baekhyun doesn't say anything. He sighs and it's loaded with a lot of intonations Chanyeol doesn't want to understand, finishes putting on his eyeliner, fixes the smudges with a Q-tip. Meticulous, that's a good word for him; Chanyeol thinks about how his fingers never shake. His do, from excitement, when Baekhyun is naked on top of him, breath hitching in his throat, pulling at his belt buckle and Chanyeol just wants to have him, all to himself.

Baekhyun inches towards him, slowly, puts his hands on Chanyeol's shoulders, trying to settle the twitching. It doesn't help.

“This is my job, baby,” he murmurs, breathing down Chanyeol's neck. “I still love you.”

Chanyeol huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. He wants to fight; it's embedded in him, some primal urge to yell at Baekhyun and beg, ask him to choose, pray he chooses him. Maybe if he'd been stable he would have – made promises of being able to support them for the rest of their lives, maybe he would have gotten down on one knee if it would make Baekhyun be his. He would do it. He could do it. Deep in his heart, he knows Baekhyun wouldn't say yes.

They fall onto the bed, and Chanyeol feels it dip between their combined weight; they ought to buy a new mattress, instead of another Versace bag, yet perhaps brief happiness was more important to them (to him) than any kind of long term stability. Baekhyun presses coarse kisses across Chanyeol's collarbones, repeating “I love you,” over and over between breaths. It's funny, sometimes, to think of what he'd give for Baekhyun to mean it, worries he'll spend the rest of his life wondering if he did.


End file.
